


Bourbon on the Rocks

by boof_floof



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: F/F, Friends With Benefits, Italian Mafia, Platonic Female/Male Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-14 21:40:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17516339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boof_floof/pseuds/boof_floof
Summary: The Amestrian Mafia scene barely resembles what it was in the country’s earlier days. Immigrants and native citizens alike are taking part in organized crime. Reform creeps closer with every new member, and Riza Hawkeye is in the eye of the storm.





	1. Succession

_“There you go! That’s it, Riza!” Her father gives her a rare smile as she hits the target dead center for the fourth time in a row. She smiles back at him. “Finish off the round and then we’ll go eat.” Six more shots fire off and six more holes cluster around the red circle in the middle of the bullseye. Over salami sandwiches, Riza’s father tells her how proud he is of her. Riza would do anything to keep the feeling of being needed by her father. Anything._

  

 _BANG!_ A decisive shot rings through the still, cold night. From her perch in an abandoned belltower, Riza peers through the scope of her rifle and watches her target fall off the bridge and into the river. A cloud of dark red billows out around him as he floats downstream. _Check,_ Riza says to herself. That’s one more job finished. Now she can get home and have some tea before she has to turn in her paperwork. Black Hayate would be glad to see her; this job took longer than expected. She should get him something nice on her way back.

 

The kettle begins whistling and Riza takes a break from playing tug-of-war with Black Hayate to pour the boiling water into her mug in which a chamomile mint tea bag already rests. He follows her, panting, and rests his head on her feet when she sits at the table. Riza lets her thoughts roam as she blows absentmindedly on her tea. The fingers of her right hand tap softly at the sides of her mug as her mind makes its way to reminiscing. Recalling the feeling of the trigger the first time she pulled it; the feeling of anxiety the first time she pulled it with the intent to kill; how that feeling gradually got more and milder as time went on; how now all she feels when she downs a target is the recoil of the gun or on occasion the pain from altercation with a bodyguard or particularly determined prey. This is standard for her now-- she doesn’t think too hard about things until she stops focusing. Without a specific thing in mind, Riza often finds her mind straying to these sorts of abstract thoughts.

Riza is pulled from her reverie when her landline rings loudly. _It must be dad,_ she thinks as she stands to answer. Black Hayate remains on the floor but his head and eyes follow her to the hall where the phone is mounted. “Hello?” Riza speaks firmly into the receiver and awaits an answer.

“Riza, honey. Welcome back. I trust everything went smoothly?” Riza flinches slightly at the pet name. She was correct in her guess; her father had indeed called.

“Yes, he should be en route to the dumping ground by now. I’ll be finished with my report by morning; I’ll bring it to you then.” The biggest hiccup had been waiting for the right moment. Once it came, everything fell into place.

“Oh, don’t worry too much about the paperwork. It’s really not as important as you make it out to be.” That’s a fundamental difference between the two of them: they both value running things smoothly but Riza places heavy importance on paperwork and making sure everything is properly filed away while her father focuses on the intrapersonal connections and leaves the paperwork to others. Most often herself. Riza feels no need to rehash what has already been said so she stays silent and her father speaks up again. “Roy and I were hoping to talk with you over lunch. It’s been a few days, after all.”

Would it really be just to catch up? Or something else? “Right. Shall I come over around one, then?”

“I’m planning on waking up late, so let’s meet at one thirty. I’ll let Roy know. He’ll pick you up a bit beforehand. Dress up; we’re going somewhere nice.” Riza makes a small noise of affirmation. “Sleep well tonight. You did well.” There it is again, that rush of satisfaction and pleasure at knowing she has done well. That she's necessary. Irreplaceable.

“Goodnight, father.” Riza closes the call and hangs up. Now to prepare to sleep… She should probably set out her outfit for tomorrow before she sleeps too. First, though, she has tea to finish and a shower to take.

 

The clock reads one twenty when Riza hears a knock at the door. Dressed in short tapered white slacks and a matching white vest over top of a black collared shirt and scarlet tie, she says goodbye to Black Hayate and grabs the briefcase containing her report and a pistol. Finally prepared, she steps out to meet Roy. He stands there with the usual silly, smug smile on his face, holding an arm out to her. She politely declines the offer. “Good afternoon, sir.” His smile strains a bit at her greeting.

“You know you don’t have to call me sir. Roy is fine. I'm just your father's apprentice, after all.” She descends the stairs side by side with him in silence, the only sound the clopping of their dress shoes on the concrete. This is another conversation that has been all but run into the ground… Those two men really seem to say the same things over and over again. She follows him into the rear of the automobile and he signals the driver to move on.

“What is today's venue, sir?” Riza speaks with a hint of curiosity in her voice. So he has no more information now than she did when she finished speaking with her father. She figures Roy may know more.

“The Midnight Star,” he says. “Apparently your father has been looking forward to this lunch for quite some time. He looked very excited when I departed earlier.” _Ah, is that so?_ She thinks. There are a few things that her father would wait to discuss for such a long period of time, but only two that came to mind that would also make him so eager. There is no point in dwelling on it, however; the car stops in front of the restaurant a few minutes later. Roy helps her out of the car and it drives off to park as they enter the lobby.

The owner of the Midnight Star owes a lot to Berthold Hawkeye (as many people in East City do). As such, it is incredibly easy for Berthold to get a table on short notice, even though normally the reservation waitlist is months long. Its high class is evidenced in the luxurious lobby filled with plush seats, dark wood, and rich wall hangings. The two of them don’t have time to sit on any of the cushions before they are guided to a medium-sized round table in a quiet corner of the restaurant. Riza’s father is sitting there thoughtfully when he sees them approach. He stands quickly and opens his arms to them, gesturing for them to sit with him. “Welcome, you two. The ride was comfortable, I hope?” The false affection had Riza on edge.

Roy answers as the two of them sit down. “Yes, quite. Thank you, father.” Berthold insists that everyone in the Falken Family call him that; he says it makes people feel more comfortable around him. Whether or not he truly believes that, Riza does not know. She does know, however, that with the aura her father exudes calling him father likely does more to make others feel as if they’re under his thumb than anything else. No amount of flowery words or familiar terms can cover up the malice and death embedded deep in his soul. Those closest to him have learned how to control their own emotions in his presence to limit the power he has over them. By now, Riza is a master and Roy is not far behind. “What was it that you wanted to discuss, again?” It seems as though Roy wants to get this over with as much as she does.

“Oh Roy, my boy, we’ll get to that! But first, let us eat!” More artificial warmth. It must be something great for him to be attempting to soften his personality so drastically. A waiter approaches at that moment and Riza turns her attention to ordering. After requesting the daily special-- a rouladen plate with potatoes and beets and greens-- she listens stoically to the small talk between Roy and her father. It is all routine: the weather, the political climate, stocks, and recent events within the family. She is glad that she doesn’t need to speak up until the small talk is over and is able to eat her meal in peace.

With everyone’s meals finished and their places cleared, Riza’s father begins to speak again. “I asked the two of you here to discuss the matter of my succession.” _That would be it._ That was one of the two possibilities Riza had contemplated, with the other being his desire for herself and Roy to get married. She’s quite pleased it is the former. “I’m getting on in years and in our lifestyle, there’s no way of knowing when I might leave this world.” This is true. Assassinations, poisonings, and kidnappings are quite common in the world of organized crime. They get more and more plausible the higher up on the food chain you are. Bigger risk, bigger reward. “Riza, you’re my only daughter. If you would like to head the family, I have no objections. You do what needs to be done and you keep nonsense to a minimum. You also have a bit of a niche carved out for yourself already, however, so if you would like to continue as you are you may. Roy has been apprenticing under me for many years now, so he’s absolutely qualified to take my place instead. Additionally, he has already agreed to do so provided you decline the offer.”

Riza does not need to consider for very long. She knows that the ambition necessary to lead the family and help it progress is as innate in Roy as it is absent in herself. He is the best choice by far for the job. She will continue to support the head as she always has: as a contract killer and paperwork machine. She doesn’t need anything beyond the feeling of being needed by the head for her skills rather than only for the tattoo on her back that writes out one of the biggest secrets of the Falken Family.

“I have no objections to him being your successor.” She can almost hear Roy’s thoughts to her left. _And here I thought I would finally get to hear you say my first name…_ Tough luck for him.

Her father nods and turns to his apprentice and claps him on the shoulder. “Congratulations, young man. You’re now next in line to head the Falken Family. I hope you live up to the name.” It sounded like wishes of success if you looked only at the words, but the tone carrying it quickly turned the phrase to a heavy threat. Roy looks nonchalantly at Berthold, however, and firmly shakes his hand.

“I intend to, sir.” Neither Roy’s voice nor gaze wavers until Riza’s father lets out a sharp bark of laughter.

“I can rest easy knowing the Family is in your hands, boy.” The words are genuine, and they reflect Riza’s thoughts perfectly. There is no better man for the position than Roy Mustang. He will definitely carry the Family into a new and strong age.


	2. The Contract

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story truly begins.

_“He said he’s sorry he didn’t do more for you.” Roy grips his hat tighter in his hands as he speaks. Riza doesn’t respond. He waited until it was much too late for regrets; she feels no pity for him. If anything, she is glad to be free of her father’s tyranny. She looks forward to the future with Roy in his place and will do her part to solidify the place of the Family in history at his side._

Nearly a year has passed since the day the matter of succession was settled. Several months ago, Riza’s father caught a mysterious illness that seemed to take him out of nowhere. One day when Roy went into his office with a question he began coughing up blood and passed away, leaving his apprentice as leader of the Family. Only the two of them in that room know exactly what her father’s last words were, but Roy relayed most of it to her after the fact. Riza was momentarily surprised at how unphased she was when she heard the news but then recalled how little love there was between them.

Three weeks after taking over, Roy’s attention was brought to two young boys who were causing quite a bit of trouble. It seemed they were looking for their mother’s killer. Roy offered them resources and information in exchange for their cooperation with mob affairs; they agreed. Riza sees them on occasion when she is between jobs, but they rarely speak with her. _Boys on a mission,_ she supposes.

Business has continued as usual in the time that Mustang has been in charge. Riza takes jobs, completes them, and waits for more. Recently, however, Roy seems to have agreed to a rather troublesome job on Riza’s behalf. The client requested infiltration, and there was a very specific timetable attached to the contract. “Sir, may I ask why you accepted this?” Riza looks up at him, exasperated.

“Hm?” He lazily takes his eyes off of his own paper to return her gaze. “Oh, I thought it would be interesting.” There’s that smirk again. The one that makes her think that he has no consideration for anyone but himself.

“I’ll be absent for quite some time; it says here that I’ll need to sign a contract with the military. I haven’t been to the Academy yet, and doesn’t it take several months to graduate before you can officially join?”

“Don’t worry about it. The client said he would take care of your enrollment in the military. You won’t have to attend the Academy.” _That sounds underhanded, but what about my life isn’t?_ Riza wondered.

“I see. And the contract length?” Standard military contracts last either six or ten years. That’s a quite a long time to be bound to any one person or entity for just one job. “I don’t much care for the idea of having military duties for six or more years.”

Roy laughs. “And I don’t fancy you being gone for that long, either.” He scratches the side of his nose. “You’ve been given one of those ‘special circumstance’ contracts. It will only last two years.” Riza has heard of specialized contracts being used for people with special permission. Just who is the client that she can bypass so many of the standard procedures?

Riza flips through the remaining pages of the agreement, noticing the information she has just discussed with Roy. Her attention is drawn to the final page, where she sees a signature she recognizes quite well from countless military and governmental decrees published publicly. “This is-” Her voice trails off in surprise.

“Fuhrer King Bradley’s signature, yes.” Roy interlocks his fingers in front of his mouth and looks pensively ahead. “As you can guess, this is a high profile, high sensitivity job. The consequences for failure are much direr than they usually are, but I do hope you agree to it.” He leans to the side and drops one hand to fidget with a trinket on his desk. “We’re only waiting on your signature to make it official.” Official, huh? So her ‘choice’ is little but a formality. Her military contract is probably being written up at this moment in preparation.

She obligingly pulls a pen from her pocket and signs on the second line, then slides the packet of papers across the desk back to him. It’s likely that turning the Fuhrer down is even less of an option than it seems, and agreeing could be quite lucrative for the Family in the future anyway. It’s likely that Roy’s thoughts had followed the same course, and that’s what brought him to all but accept it on her behalf. Riza has realized over time that as flippant as his attitude can be, his decisions are rarely impulsive. He greatly favors quick calculations and strategic selections.

Rather than thanking her, he simply nods and checks the final page before placing the contract in a manila envelope to be filed away. Riza assumes that he will contact either a middle man or the Fuhrer himself later that day to inform him that she has signed and the arrangements for her enlistment can _officially_ continue. Roy looks up at her after he finishes sealing the envelope and leans forward slightly. “Would you care to have lunch with me today? I’m thinking Italian sounds nice.” That joking smirk returns to his lips, signaling that business is no longer at the forefront of his mind.

“No thank you, sir.” Riza’s lips twitch upward almost imperceptibly. “I already have plans for lunch today.” Her good friend Rebecca had contacted her a few days before and the two of them agreed to meet for a meal at a cafe they had frequented in the past that day. “I do hope you enjoy your Italian.” She lets her lips curl into a smirk of her own and waits for dismissal. It comes shortly in the form of a breathy scoff and a shake of his head. The expression on his face is one of mock disbelief as she turns from him and walks out of the room.

 

“Riza!” She looks up as she hears her name called out from somewhere across the sea of outdoor tables. Waving at her about 30 feet away is Rebecca. Riza beckons her over with a small smile and stands to greet her friend.

“How have you been, Becca?” Riza asks as she is pulled into a short hug. Rebecca has always been rather touchy, and Riza doesn’t mind. “What have you been up to?”

“Oh, you know. The usual. Getting into trouble.” Rebecca jokes as she simultaneously sits and puts her bag down beside her chair. “And yourself? Still attending to the every whim of that fellow who kissed up to your father at every turn? I heard through the grapevine that he’s in charge now.” Her eyes and smile transition from playful to concerned and Riza knows that between the lines she’s asking how she feels about her father’s passing.

“Don’t worry about me, I’m _fine_. And yes, I’m still going along with his decisions. They’re generally quite smart, despite his air of ineptitude.” The waiter assigned to their table approaches and the two women order their meals and drinks with the practiced ease of regulars. “And you’d be surprised how often he opposed dad. I suppose that could have been kissing up to him though, in a way. He always liked that boldness about Roy. He said he needed someone around him who wasn’t just a ‘yes man’.”

Rebecca presses her lips together and nods knowingly. “That’s probably the biggest reason he got introduced to the Family and ended up taking over. Your dad saw he could think for himself and wasn’t afraid to do what it took to get what he wanted. He probably saw himself in Roy.”

Riza voices her agreement. “Definitely. He treated Roy like his biological son up until the end. I sometimes wonder if he felt more of a connection with Roy in the four odd years they knew each other than he ever felt with me…” She nods her thanks to the waiter as he places their orders in front of them and takes a sip of her coffee. “But there’s no use dwelling on that. I just have to continue fulfilling my purpose, really.”

“You’re still doing the same work?” Rebecca sighs and lets her head fall to the side. “I thought you would have graduated being the dog of the family head by now.”

“It’s what I’m good at, and I don’t mind it. Honestly I don’t know how I would adjust to doing something else at this point should I be forced to.” She had read once in an article that one could develop an immunity to adrenaline which would make you feel bored all the time, prompting one to take greater and greater risks just to feel something. Without the dangers of her current job, Riza wonders what kinds of alternatives she would turn to.

“I just hope you don’t get yourself into too much trouble on behalf of someone else, Ri.” There is genuine worry in her expression that pulls at Riza’s heart.

“Of course. And if I ever do get into trouble, I’m sure you’ll bail me out.” She tries to lighten the mood a bit with a small joke.

“Not if you get busted for anything more substantial than shoplifting.” Rebecca raises her eyebrows and takes a dramatically deep swallow of her own coffee. “I don’t have _that_ much money in my savings account.”

Riza chuckles softly but doesn’t otherwise respond to the jest. “Speaking of trouble, my next job seems like it will be quite interesting. A bit more ‘in the light’ than previous ones I’ve done. I’ll have to tell you about it when it’s over.” The details are always totally confidential until the target is taken care of. Rebecca knows that, and she’s learned to be okay with waiting for the story.

“I look forward to it.” Becca raises her mug slightly and subtly nods her head before taking a drink.

The two of them continue their conversation with a focus on Rebecca, the details of whose life are not confidentialised out of necessity. It was a pleasant meeting that leaves Riza feeling uplifted for the rest of the day as she runs a few errands and does various chores around the house. A rather uneventful day all told, but one that allows for a good night’s rest, and a good night’s rest is exactly what Riza indulges in.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is inspired by these artworks by Tomochingus on Tumblr; check them out if you haven't seen them already!  
> http://tomochingus.tumblr.com/post/181784569829/oliviza-stans-come-get-yall-juice  
> http://tomochingus.tumblr.com/post/181665435444/just-want-u-to-know-that-ur-oliviza-assasin-au  
> http://tomochingus.tumblr.com/post/181629825824/oliviza-assassin-au-my-first-drawing-of-the


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